


Home is Where They Know You

by autoeuphoric (FreezingRayne)



Series: Make this Place Your Home [2]
Category: Free!
Genre: M/M, everyone continues to get pinned to various surfaces, rin figuring his shit out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-17
Updated: 2013-09-30
Packaged: 2017-12-23 18:25:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/929655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FreezingRayne/pseuds/autoeuphoric
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rin keeps finding bits of his younger self staring out at him from the pages of old books, wedged tight into the corners of his room. No matter how careful he is, he’s cutting himself on the jagged edges of his old life.  Haru is the sharpest edge of them all.  </p><p>Set directly after "Everywhere and Nowhere".</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A direct sequel to "Everywhere and Nowhere". It's probably best to read that first. I'm getting a little hand-wavey with the timeline here, but it's set sometime before the prefectural tournament. Depending on what happens in next week's episode, it may go a little AU. 
> 
> Rating may go up, depending on whether or not I feel up to writing smut. I'm not sure how long it's going to be--I suppose we'll see.

They are a block from Haru’s house, and Rin is going to explode. 

There is so much for him to think about right now that he’s decided not to think about anything at all. He’s just been walking a pace or two behind Haru, watching beads of water break away from the tips of his hair to chase each other down his back. It gives him something to focus on, but it’s not exactly making him any calmer. He almost wants to suggest another race, just to get them there faster. 

Rin has never had sex with anyone before, but goddamn does he want to do it with Haru. And to Haru. All of it. Everything. 

They run into one of Haru’s neighbors, a little old lady wearing a floppy hat and grass-stained apron, like she’s about to do some romantic, moonlit gardening. She smiles at them and asks Haru how he’s doing, if he’s heard from his parents recently, who his handsome friend is. If she finds it odd that Haru is roaming the streets in a wet swimsuit at ten o’clock at night, she says nothing. She’s probably used to it by now. 

The conversation goes on for almost five minutes. Rin has never felt so hostile to an elderly person in his life.

By the time they are on Haru’s front steps, Rin’s got plans. He’s going to slam Haru against the door as soon as it’s closed, to make up for the pinning back in the pool. They’ll move on from there.

The key is in the lock, the door is halfway open. Then they’re inside and the door is shut and Haru is up against the wall. It’s too dark to see his eyes, but Rin hears the hitch in his breath, feels the bare, hot skin of his chest and neck. 

Haru’s phone rings, and Rin snarls. 

“Don’t answer that.” 

Haru reaches into his bag, glances at his phone, and then holds it up so Rin can see the screen. “It’s your sister.” 

Rin squints. “Why’s she calling you?” 

Haru puts the phone on speaker and holds it between them. “Hello? Gou-chan?” 

“Haruka-senpai?” The connection is bad, and she’s somewhere crowded. 

“Yeah.” 

“I’ve been calling for like twenty minutes.” 

“What’re you doing calling boys in the middle of the night?” Rin demands. 

A moment of silence. “Onii-chan? Is that you?” 

“Yeah, it’s me. What’s going on?” 

When Gou speaks again, it’s hesitant, like she’s much less into talking now that she knows her brother is listening. “…Haruka-senpai, have you heard from Makoto? I can’t reach him, and he was supposed to meet me an hour ago.” 

Two thin lines appear between Haru’s eyebrows. “I haven’t talked to him since this morning.” 

Standing there in the dark front hall with their heads bent over a phone, still damp, Rin is starting to get chills. He sounds more irritated than he actually is when he snaps out, “Why are you waiting around for Makoto?” 

“We were supposed to see a movie.” She lets out a soft, hiccupping breath. “We’ve been going out. It’s not a big deal.” 

“ _What_?” 

“It’s not a big deal,” she repeats, like saying it makes it true. 

Rin’s hair is dripping cold water down the back of his neck. All he wants right now is a shower. And maybe to pull all of Haru’s clothes off. But that’s it. He doesn’t want to deal with this. “Don’t worry about him, Gou. He probably met a kitten on the way, or something. Maybe a puppy is up a tree.” He doesn’t expect a laugh, and he doesn’t get one. Haru is frowning. 

“Did you talk to his parents?” 

“I called the house. No one answered there either.” 

“So what, they’ve _all_ gone missing?” Rin snorts. 

Haru lays a hand flat against Rin’s abdomen to push him away. He turns the phone off speaker and holds it up to his ear. Rin slumps back against the door and crosses his arms. He’d had plans for this door, damn it. 

The conversation becomes monosyllabic on Haru’s end. He stands in front of the hall window, body painted two-toned by the porch light. 

With one last, “Yeah,” he snaps the phone shut. He and Rin look at each other across the hall, before he toes his shoes off and heads into the dark, the house swallowing him whole. A few seconds later it spits him back out, a light coming on at the end of the hall. 

Rin steps up from the entryway, feeling the old house creaking under and around him. He slides open a familiar door, looking into a dark dining room with a traditional low table and tatami mats on the floor. The house seems a lot smaller than he remembers it, but it’s really just him who’s bigger. He hasn’t been here since before he left for Australia for the first time; when they had been training for the relay Haru’s mom would feed them onigiri and melon soda after practice. Once, when Rin had a sore throat, she made him a pot of tea that tasted like grass and watched him to make sure he drank it. 

Haru is pulling on a shirt, already wearing jeans, swimsuit lying damp and crumpled beside his bed. His head appears from inside the shirt, and he looks down at Rin’s feet. “You shouldn’t wear your shoes in here.” 

“Fuck my shoes. Are you seriously going out to look for him?” Rin knows he’s being a dick, but he’s tense and horny and not in the mood for bullshit.

“You don’t have to come.” Haru pushes damp hair back out of his eyes. Behind him, the futon is unmade, a hillocky landscape of pillows and duvet, a book flipped open, spine-up. Rin wants to push Haru down on it and bite his neck, mark the smooth, pale skin of his shoulders and throat. 

Rin sighs through his teeth. “Fine. Let’s go. But he better not be in a ditch somewhere.”


	2. Chapter 2

Coming back home has been a slow, exhausting burn. 

Rin keeps finding bits of his younger self staring out at him from the pages of old books, wedged tight into the corners of his room. His Middle School is here, and the old community center where they used to swim. His father’s grave. The ocean that had taken him away. 

No matter how careful he is, he’s cutting himself on the jagged edges of his old life. Haru is the sharpest edge of them all. 

\---

The trains run until midnight on Saturdays, but there’s a delay—debris on the tracks—so it’s almost a quarter till eleven when they finally get downtown. Rin is so tense that his shoulders have started to ache, and he is so frustrated (sexually and otherwise) that he knows it’s leaking out of him like radiation. Haru had looked at him a couple of times on the train, but they hadn’t talked, and although their shoulders had brushed, it had probably just been an coincidence. 

Gou is sitting anxiously on the curb outside the theatre, phone clasped between her hands. She stands up when she sees them. 

“Thanks for coming,” she says to Haru. Then she looks between them, frowning. “Are you guys…hanging out?” 

“No,” Rin says, at the exact moment Haru says, “Yes.” 

Gou’s eyebrows arch, but she’s too distracted to spare much thought. She looks nice—in dark jeans and a sky blue sweater. Her hair is down and she’s wearing more makeup than she does to go to school. 

“We were supposed to meet almost two hours ago. He’s never been late before.” 

“How many times have you gone out?” Rin asks. He’s trying to picture his baby sister walking around with that guy, and he can’t do it. The thought of Makoto _dating_ someone just seems totally absurd. 

When Gou answers, she’s a little pink in the cheeks, but she stares him down. “Some. A lot, actually. I like Makoto. Nothing about that is going to change, no matter what you say.” 

“Okay, okay.” Rin is surprised, and a little impressed. “You don’t have to go all high school drama on me.” 

Haru is staring up at the flashing red and white lights of the theatre, like he’s trying to read meaning in their signals. “Do you think something happened?”

“No!” Gou says emphatically. Then she frowns. “I don’t know. I hope not.” She runs her fingers through her hair and clenches down with a fist. “Maybe he stood me up.” 

“Makoto wouldn’t do that,” Haru says without any room for doubt. Had he known the two of them were dating? Makoto is his best friend—there’s probably no way he hadn’t known. 

“Hey! Haru-chan!” 

Rin feels the instant threat of a migraine behind his left eye, which can only mean one thing. 

Nagisa scampers up, trailing a boy with glasses behind him like a kite on a string. He hops up onto the curb, beaming. 

“Oh, Rin-chan, you’re here too?” He looks at Gou, attention skipping onto her like metal filings to a magnet. “Gou-chan, you look awesome!” 

“Thanks,” she says, smile wilting. 

“Hey, what’s wrong?” 

While Gou explains, Rin looks Nagisa’s passenger over. After a second, he realizes he knows him.

“You’re that guy who can’t swim.” 

The guy—what had his name been? Ryugazaki-something?—flushes a hot, embarrassed pink. He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “I can swim now,” he says stiffly. “I just couldn’t swim when you met me.” 

Nagisa latches on to his arm. “Yep. Rei-chan swims butterfly. He’s got really beautiful technique.” 

Rei is flustered, and he covers it with a cocky tilt of his chin. “Well, it’s a beautiful stroke.” 

_It’s a tiring stroke_ , Rin thinks. Needlessly tiring. Swim one race in butterfly, and you’re done for the rest of the meet. Not that these guys aren’t going to be done before they even hit the pool. Apart from Haru, none of them are any kind of threat at all. Well, maybe Makota, but that’s because he’s just so _long_. 

The theatre doors open and the crowd spills out into the street; a movie must have just let out. This late, it’s mostly couples, nervous-looking boys and girls on first dates, and older, calmer couples walking hand in hand. Rin watches a college-age boy and girl go by, her head resting on his shoulder, eyes screwed up as she laughs. Wind sweeps up the street, and as warm as it is, it makes Rin shiver.

If things were different, would he be able to walk around with Haru like that? Would they see movies and eat sushi, and do all that other stuff you’re supposed to do on dates? Would he even want to? In Sydney, he had gotten used to seeing gay couples on the street, but at home it just sounds ridiculous, totally alien. 

He thinks that word before he means to. Is Rin gay? Is that what he is? 

When they met, he had known he liked Haru, liked being around him, liked watching him swim. Liked his calm, quiet energy, the way he barely ever smiled. If he focuses, Rin can still summon up the thin curl of nervous pleasure he had felt whenever he managed to make him laugh. 

When they had won the relay and all crashed together in a wave of exuberance and skinny, slippery limbs, Haru had put his arms around Rin and squeezed so tight, and Rin had known, in the clear, obvious way that barely ever materializes outside of dreams, that he was in love with Haru. He had never even considered it before—since boys weren’t supposed to feel that way about other boys—but in that moment of wild victory the thought had not been frightening. It had been awesome. 

The problem with moments is that they do not typically last. 

“Maybe we should check at Mako-chan’s house?” Nagisa suggests. 

“Or to the hospital,” Ryugazaki adds. 

Gou looks at Haru, like he’s got ultimate say over all their movements. It occurs to Rin that his sister now knows Haru way better than he does. 

“Let’s go to his house first,” Haru says.

“What, all of us?” Rin asks. He glances at Nagisa and Ryugazaki. 

“Of course we’re coming,” Nagisa’s expression goes hostile for just a second. “We’re his friends.” 

_Unlike you_. 

He doesn’t say it aloud, but he doesn’t have to. It hangs in the air like humidity, clogging Rin’s pores and making his neck itch. 

“Besides,” Nagisa adds, all smiles and rainbows again. “Rei-chan is too scared to watch a horror movie with me.” 

Ryugazaki chokes. “That’s not what I said! Movies are expensive!” 

“Come on,” Gou says. “We’re going to miss the last train.”


	3. Chapter 3

When Rin had gotten the scholarship to attend the academy in Sydney, the one that’s renowned for churning out Olympic athletes, he had gone to his father’s grave and stood there, looking down, hearing nothing but the clicking of insects and the creaking whine of the cemetery gate opening and closing in the wind. 

_This is what you want_ , he had told himself. _This is what you want_. 

\--- 

The train they take is not the last train, but it’s close. The car they choose is totally empty. Haru sits closest to the door, and Nagisa promptly sits down next to him. 

_Practically on top of him_ , Rin notices with irritation. 

Rei sits beside Nagisa. Rin sits across from them and, after a moment of less-than-subtle indecision, Gou joins him. Haru glances at Rin, then looks away and down at the floor, nodding along with whatever Nagisa is blathering on about. 

_He’s not your boyfriend_ , says the reasonable hemisphere of Rin’s brain. _You kissed for five minutes in the pool. You don’t need to sit with him on the train_. 

“What’s with that expression?” Gou asks. She’s still got her phone in her hands, like hanging on tight is going to make it ring. 

Rin immediately relaxes the muscles in his face to make his expression as blank as possible. 

“What expression?” 

Gou flips her phone open and shut. “You look mad.” 

“I’m not mad.” 

“I said you _look_ mad.” 

“Well, I’m not!” 

The words echo through the car, and the others fall silent for a second. Rin leans back in his seat and runs his fingers through his hair like, _yeah, I don’t care that I’m making an ass of myself. I do it all the time._

“Is this about me and Makoto?” Gou asks, lowering her voice. 

Rin laughs, because that is the furthest thing from his mind right now. 

“Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, it is.” 

“Why do you care who I date?” 

It sounds like a trick question, and even if it’s not, Rin has always sucked at pop quizzes. “Because I’m your brother.” That doesn’t seems sufficient, so he adds, “You’re way too good for him.” 

Gou glowers. “How would you know that?” 

“What?” 

“You don’t know me, Onii-chan. You don’t know whether I’m too good for Makoto.” She’s dropped her phone into her lap and she’s twisting her fingers together, weaving them one on top of the other. Her nail polish is chipped at the edges. “You’ve been home twice since you got back to Japan, and once was just for half an hour. You never even talk to me unless you have to. Mom thinks _she_ did something to make you mad.” 

Across the aisle, Nagisa and Rei are talking very loudly about some manga they are both reading, but Haru is watching Rin. He can’t stand meeting that gaze, so he looks back at Gou, which is not any better. Tears glitter threateningly in the corners of her eyes, but she swallows them back down, turning away from him, going back to staring at her phone. Rin slumps down in his seat as they come around the last bend before Iwatobi Station. 

_You’re right. I’m a shitty older brother and a worse son_. 

He should say it because it’s true. But he doesn’t say anything. 

 

Rin has never been to Makoto’s house, but he knows he lives in the same neighborhood that Haru does. Walking out of the train station, it feels like the night has been put on repeat. Except now they’ve picked up some groupies, Gou’s pissed at him, and Haru seems to have put himself on Silent Mode. He hasn’t said a word since they got on the train. 

The old woman is gone from her garden, and the lights in her house are off. Out of the corner of his eye, Rin thinks he sees the drapes in a downstairs window twitch as they go by. Is she spying on them? Maybe she’s choosing her next victim. She had probably been burying bodies earlier—what else would anyone be doing gardening at night? 

Gou is vibrating with worry. Rin puts an awkward hand on her shoulder. “Hey. It’s going to be okay.” 

Gou walks faster to stay out of his reach. “You don’t know that.” She hurries to catch up to Nagisa and Ryugazaki, who are leading the way. They walk with their heads bent together, and Rin can tell they are talking about him. They’re not even trying to be casual about it.

Haru is walking up on the edge of the curb. He’s worried. Rin can tell from the tension in his shoulders and the slight twitches in his hands. To anyone else he would seem as still as a glass ocean, but underneath he’s a current, swirling the water, smashing hot and cold together. To Rin, he has always been the undertow, pulling him out to sea. 

Look. Haru’s turning him into a fucking poet. 

The steps down to Makoto’s road are dark—none of the houses have lights on, and this part of the neighborhood must be too old to have street lights. On their way down, Haru steps on the back of Rin’s shoe. Rin curses and trips, and Haru’s hand comes down on his shoulder, catching him just before he falls. 

“Sorry,” he says. He let’s go quickly, the brief presence of his hand leaving a warm spot on Rin’s shoulder. 

“It’s okay,” Rin says, voice tight. His pulse is jumping, the adrenaline spike and Haru’s proximity heating his skin and making his palms sticky. 

Nagisa is at the bottom of the stairs, face a pale splash in the darkness. “What are you guys doing up there?” 

“Nothing,” Haru says, passing Rin to rejoin the others. 

 

Makoto’s house is as dark as the rest of the buildings on the street, and Rin groans—the hospital is in the complete opposite direction—but for the first time his annoyance is tinged with fear. Haru’s right. Makoto would never stand Gou up. He isn’t that kind of guy. So where the fuck is he? 

Before he can really start to worry, Nagisa lets out an excited yelp. “Mako-chan!” 

Makoto is sitting on his front porch. The house looms behind him, dark and silent, like a gravestone. He’s staring down at his phone, which is pulsing with a steady green light, no doubt filled to the brim with Gou’s voicemails. 

Gou runs the last few meters up the road. Makoto smiles tiredly when he sees her, but before he can get up she collapses to the steps and throws her arms around him. “You’re okay!” She buries her face in the curve of his neck, and he puts an arm around her. She smacks him hard on the shoulder with a closed fist. “You jerk! I was worried about you! Why didn’t you answer my calls?” 

Guilt twists Makoto’s smile into something painful. “I’m sorry,” he says quietly, and even though they’re only hugging, Rin feels like he shouldn’t be watching this. 

Makoto looks up at the rest of them. “Thank you for worrying about me. All of you.” If he finds it strange that Rin is present, he gives no indication, and Rin knows without even asking that Makoto would forgive him in a second—without question, without hesitation. Even when they were kids, he had always made kindness look so easy. 

What must it be like, Rin wonders, to be able to watch those around you without envying them? Without coveting what they have, without wanting to be what they are? Rin has always wanted so harshly he feels sick with it. 

“What happened, Mako-chan?” Nagisa asks. “What’s going on?” 

Makoto stands up, still with an arm around Gou. She barely comes up to his shoulder. “My mom collapsed. She’s at the hospital right now. They don’t know what’s wrong with her.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Cue dramatic music* 
> 
> I estimate that this fic will be about five or six chapters long. The next few updates should come out fairly quickly. Thanks for all the kudos and comments, guys, I really appreciate it.


	4. Chapter 4

Fear always hits in the stomach. 

It widens out from there, twisting and tumbling upward into the throat. The physical reaction is quicker than the mental one; eons of evolution built for escaping lions and tigers and cannibals. But some sorts of fears you can’t run from. 

When the two men from the dockyard had come to Rin’s house years ago, he had, naturally, ignored his mom’s orders to go upstairs, and instead listened at the crack between the door and the floor. He listens as they calmly explain how bad the storm had been and how much damage the port had taken, as his mother’s breaths gradually become sobs. 

Rin’s body understands before his brain does. It hits him in the stomach, horror so huge and numb that he can’t move. He’s still crouching on the floor like an animal a few minutes later when the men give their condolences and leave. His mother’s sobs subside gradually into sniffles, and as she quiets, Rin finds he has the strength to push himself up to his knees, but it’s a long while before he gains his feet. 

 

_My mom collapsed. They don’t know what’s wrong with her._

The fear is just a memory now, but it’s still there, woven into Rin’s DNA, as fundamental a part of him as his blood type. He can see the beginnings of that fear in Makoto’s eyes, and it makes his breath freeze cold in his chest. He doesn’t wish that on anyone. 

“Your mom?” Gou brushes her hand over Makoto’s shoulder, as if to make up for the punch earlier. “Oh god, Makoto…” 

“It’s okay.” Makoto rubs at his eyes, although it did not look like he had been crying. “Let’s go inside. I’ll make tea.” 

Nagisa hops up onto the stairs, pushing past Makoto and into the house. “Nope. We’re making _you_ tea, Mako-chan.” 

 

Gou ends up making the tea, since Ryugazaki and Nagisa get into an argument over the electric kettle. She offers to make some for the two of them and Haru as well, and then, reluctantly, Rin. 

“No, I’m okay. Thanks, though!” he calls after her as she heads back into the kitchen. She ignores him. 

Haru makes a noise that sounds an awful lot like a chuckle, but when Rin glances at him, his expression is at its most vacant. 

“What happened?” Gou asks when the tea is made and Makoto is sitting at the table, holding his cup in his big hands and staring blankly into the steam. 

He shrugs. “I got a call from my dad. He said my mom’s boss had called him and said she just collapsed in the office.” 

“Overwork?” Nagisa asks. He and Ryugazaki are sitting on the other side of the table, and he has his chin propped up in his hands, expression uncharacteristically stern. 

“I don’t know.” Makoto brings his tea up to his mouth and then just looks at it like he’s forgotten what he’s supposed to do next. “Dad came home and picked up my brother and sister, and they all went to meet her at the hospital. I was supposed to see a movie with Gou, so I stayed behind to call her—.” 

“You didn’t have to do that!” Gou looks totally horrified, no doubt embarrassed by all the messages she had left. 

Makoto smiles at her and okay, yeah, Rin can admit it. They really seem to like each other, and they…sort of fit, even if he could probably lift her into the air with one hand. 

Before he can stop himself, Rin wonders how he and Haru look when they’re together. Currently, probably like two guys at a bus stop, with the way Haru’s got his body turned away from Rin, his arms crossed. 

“I wanted to tell you,” Makoto goes on, “But that would have meant admitting that something was really wrong. And if I just went to the movie with you, that would mean having to pretend that _nothing_ was wrong, and if I explained it to you, then you would have asked why I wasn’t with her at the hospital, and…” Rin has never seen Makoto this at-sea before. 

Gou hugs him again, cutting him off mid-babble. “I get it.” 

“It’s going to be okay, Makoto,” Haru says, speaking up for the first time since they had come inside. 

Makoto smiles gratefully, as if Haru saying it makes it true. Rin doesn’t blame him—Haru tends to have that effect. Just the raw surety in his voice is enough to make Rin feel a little better, and his words hadn’t even been directed at him. 

“Yeah, don’t worry, Mako-chan!” 

“Nagisa’s right, Makoto-senpai. We’re all with you.” 

Now Makoto is drinking his tea and thanking them all, and Rin has had about enough of a love-fest that he isn’t even a part of. 

He walks down the short hallway and turns a corner into the bathroom. He doesn’t actually have to use it, so he just stares at his reflection in the mirror, gripping the sides of the porcelain sink. He is pale enough that the thin blue veins are visible beneath his eyes, splitting off like lines on a roadmap. He has been up since 5 am, and exhaustion is crouching in wait, ready to hit him like a waterfall and knock him on his ass. 

Had it really only been a couple of hours ago that Haru had pinned him against a cement wall and kissed him? Almost drowning him in the process? It feels like days. 

And how had any of this even happened? He had promised himself that he would stay away from them; his old friends are nothing but a distraction. Haru is a distraction. 

_A distraction from what?_ asks the voice in his head that has been getting steadily more smug all night. _Fame? Fortune? All those gold medals you’re going to win?_

Rin snorts, wishes he could punch his reflection in the face without cutting up his fist and destroying Makoto’s bathroom, and bangs out into the hallway. He practically trips over Haru. 

Rin makes a very unmanly noise of surprise. “Shit! What are you lurking around for?” 

Haru is standing just out of the block of light thrown from the kitchen. “What are you doing?” he asks, and it’s too dim to see his lips moving. 

“Going to the bathroom.” 

“You didn’t flush the toilet or turn on the sink.” 

“Okay, you got me,” Rin snaps, pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. “I was admiring myself in the mirror. I’m just so gorgeous I can’t even stand it.” 

He brushes past Haru. Or he tries to. Haru grabs him by the arm at the last moment, pulling him back around the corner. He should see it coming this time, he really should, but to be fair they _are_ in Makoto’s house, around the corner from Haru’s friends, with the threat of a sick mother hanging over them all. Not exactly the time or place for romance. 

Haru is against the wall this time, Rin pulled up tight against him, his arm pinned between them. Haru makes a low, encouraging noise in his throat as Rin kisses him, fingers twisting into his sweatshirt, hanging on tight. His muscles are tight and thrumming with potential energy, like he’s tensed for a dive, and his mouth still tastes slightly of chlorine. His hand moves up Rin’s chest and over his shoulders, tracing its way up his neck to push into his hair. Nails scratch across Rin’s scalp and he shivers. 

“You get turned on in the weirdest places,” he gasps, when Haru abandons his mouth to kiss his neck. Rin’s pretty sure Haru had never kissed anyone before kissing him in the pool; he uses his tongue too much and moves around a lot, like he’s learned everything he knows about making out from movies. Not that Rin is an expert, or anything—most of the kissing he’s done has been drunk kissing. 

Haru’s response is another low sound that hits Rin somewhere low and hot. He drops his hand between them, and before he can turn chickenshit, unbuttons Haru’s jeans. Haru sucks in his breath. He braces his hands on Rin’s shoulders and rolls his hips.

“Haru-chan! Rin-chan!” Nagisa’s voice drifts around the corner from the kitchen. 

Rin yanks his hand out of Haru’s pants.

“Haru-chan! Mako-chan’s mom’s okay!” 

Haru leans back against the wall and closes his eyes. He takes a deep breath. His lips are wet and swollen red, cheeks flushed, hair hanging in his eyes. He looks as frustrated as Rin feels. 

Rin scrubs his hands through his hair. “Shit.” He steps away from Haru. “Your timing is the worst.” 

Haru zips his jeans back up and straightens his shirt, attempting to make himself look less like he had just been getting groped in his best friend’s hallway. The results are mixed. He looks at Rin for a moment, before he walks back out to join the others.


	5. Chapter 5

_It’s hot_. 

That’s the only thought his exhausted brain can dredge up. It’s January and it’s hot. His world has literally been turned upside down. 

The representative from the school who meets Rin and the two other Japanese students (a boy and a girl, both from Tokyo) at the airport speaks very fast and with an accent that is totally different from the English that Rin has learned in school or heard on TV. His smile is wide and phony. 

Rin responds to his questions brokenly, barely able to string the words together. He’s tired, but he’s happy—this is the place for him. He’s going to make his dad proud. His old life can’t touch him here. 

Haru can’t touch him here. 

\---

Makoto is talking on the phone when they come back in, slumped forward onto the table, relief soft and heavy in his eyes. He rubs sweat from his forehead and tells the person on the other end of the line that he loves them, before hanging up and resting back heavily in his chair. 

Gou shakes his arm. “Well?” 

“They’re keeping her overnight for observation,” Makoto says, “But she’s alright. She can come home in the morning.” 

Gou claps her hands together and hugs him again. Beside Rin, Haru lets out a slow breath, lips twitching upward into a brief smile. His clothes are mussed and he has a slash of fevered color across his cheeks, but his composure is back. Rin’s heart is still pounding like a strip-club bass, and he has an erection that he really hopes is not super-obvious through his jeans. And he probably should have checked his hair in the bathroom mirror—Haru’s fingers had been in it pretty firmly. 

Across the room, Nagisa grins. “That’s great, Makoto!” he exclaims, but Rin sees him nudge Ryugazaki lightly with his elbow. The two of them are looking at Rin like they know exactly what he and Haru were just doing. 

“I’ll stay here with you tonight,” Gou says firmly, squeezing Makoto’s hand. 

“You will?” Makoto glances sidelong at Rin, as though he’s expecting a brotherly protest. 

Without even bothering to follow his gaze, Gou says, “Onii-chan isn’t the boss of me.” 

Rin shrugs, head still spinning in circles at the memory of having Haru’s cock in his hand. “She’s right. I’m not.” 

“Gou-chan, you’re so scandalous!” Nagisa giggles. 

Gou’s cheeks flame. “I’ll sleep on the _couch_. I just want to make sure you’re okay,” she tells Makoto. “Besides, I missed the last train.” 

 

Nagisa and Ryugazai head back out into the front yard, making way more noise than is strictly necessary. Gou retreats to the bathroom, and Haru nods briefly at Makoto. Makoto smiles and nods back. Haru walks out to join Nagisa and Ryugazaki. 

_They’ve got to be communicating telepathically. There’s no way you can be best friends with someone and never talk to them_. 

“Ah, Rin?” 

Rin hangs back, looking over his shoulder. Makoto is still sitting at the table, swirling his cooling tea around in the cup. “Yeah?” 

“I was distracted earlier—.” He laughs shortly, a quick release of emotion. Makoto is able to laugh, able to breathe, because he got the call that said everything is alright. 

Rin feels another hot flash of jealousy—he never got that call, and he never will. 

“I’m glad you’re here. I’m glad you and Haru are together.” 

“We’re not—.” Rin bites down on the snap-retort. Not what? Not together? Obviously, they are. At least in the physical sense. 

“I know it’s probably forward of me to say, since we haven’t been friends in awhile—.” 

Makoto’s tone is pleasant—he’s always pleasant—but it hurts. Everything hurts tonight in ways that it shouldn’t. 

“—But whatever is wrong, I don’t think Haru is the problem.” 

Shock ripples through Rin. Is he really so totally transparent? 

There are so many things he could respond with— _What problem? There’s no problem here_. Or, _Yeah, he is actually_. Or Rin’s personal favorite, _Go fuck yourself, Makoto, you’re out of your mind_. But every single one would be a lie. 

So instead Rin just says, “Okay,” before turning around and heading out into the night.

 

“I’m exhausted!” Nagisa declares, reaching his arms up toward the pale, fat moon. “But I’m glad Makoto’s mom is going to be okay.” 

Haru nods. Rin says, “Yeah.” 

Nagisa and Ryugazaki head off back toward the main road and wherever it is they live, walking side by side. Near the corner, Nagisa laughs, voice clear and bright in the midnight silence. Ryugazaki traces a hand across his lower back, a possessive, fond touch. 

Rin’s mouth drops open. It would never even have _occurred_ to him had he not just been thinking about couples and their vibes, but—

“Are the two of them…?” 

“Come on,” Haru says. “It’s getting late.” 

 

Samezuka Academy is in the opposite direction from Haru’s house, and Rin could probably make it back in pretty good time if he jogs it, but when his feet grow a mind of their own and fall into step beside Haru, he doesn’t argue. He is suddenly so tired that he is floating, and it feels like the top of his skull has been opened up to the elements, fog drifting in to mess with the machinery of his brain. 

_Whatever is wrong, I don’t think Haru is the problem_. 

Rin squeezes his eyes shut, like he can push the words out of his memory. If Haru isn’t the problem, then that means he’s the problem. But he pretty much already knew that. 

_So, I do what? Just stop being the problem? Is that it? Is it that fucking simple_? 

Rin laughs aloud, a short bark that’s thrown back by a darkened house’s high garden fence. Haru glances at him, but he doesn’t ask. 

_Stop being the problem_. That isn’t simple at all. 

 

“I’ll sleep on the floor,” Rin says. 

Haru flicks the light on and vanishes into the bathroom. “You don’t have to. There’s room on the bed.” He closes the door, and a few seconds later Rin hears the sink running. 

He wanders further down the hall and into Haru’s room. The air is still and close, and Rin turns on an ancient metal fan that he’s pretty sure he can remember from back before he left for Australia. It lets out a vibrating creak as it whirs to life. The window is open, a couple of tiny white moths pressed against the mosquito netting, straining for the light inside. 

Rin sits down on the edge of the futon, picking up the book sitting on the blanket and flipping it over. It’s part two of Murakami’s latest novel. Rin doesn’t think he’s ever seen Haru reading before. Rin sets the book on the floor and pulls his hoodie off over his head. He tosses it at the desk chair, hooking it over the back, It slithers off, collapsing down into a defeated lump at the foot of the desk. 

_There’s room on the bed_. 

Rin falls back, head hitting the edge of the pillow. Hell, yes there’s room. Plenty of room to do all sorts of things. 

He means to sit back up and put the sweatshirt on the chair, maybe take off his socks and shirt, but he closes his eyes instead, just for a moment. His last thought before he falls asleep is that the sheets smells familiar in a way they don’t at the dorms. 

 

The next time he opens his eyes, pale summer light has filled in the corners of the room, highlighting the schoolbooks on the desk, making the swimming trophies gleam like ranks of armored soldiers. Outside the window a maple tree moves in the breeze, shadows of the leaves projected huge and luminous on the bedroom wall. The fan creaks a counterpoint to Haru’s slow, steady breaths. 

He’s lying on his stomach, hair brushed down into his eyes in a feathery mess. He looks very young in his sleep. It feels gratuitous to watch him, like Rin is getting away with something as his gaze moves from his face to the sleek line of his back. He had mocked Haru about being out of shape, but he had pretty much been talking out of his ass. Haru is gorgeous. 

His sweatpants are pulled down low on his hips, and Rin wants to pull them even lower, kiss his tailbone, lick up his spine to his neck. He wants to taste all the places he hasn’t had the time to find yet.

“What’re you looking at?” 

Rin jumps, smacking his head against the wall.

“Shit! How long have you been awake?” 

Haru rolls onto his back, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his hand. “Just woke up,” he murmurs. The skin around his eyes is puffy and a bit of hair is stuck to his cheek. It makes something dangerous tighten inside Rin, because now that he’s seen this once, he’s going to want to see it every fucking morning. 

He wants to wake up next to Haru, and he wants to feel this achey and exhausted, but not from stomping back and forth around the neighborhood for hours. And also not so uncomfortable and sweaty from sleeping in his clothes, or itchy from the chlorine he hasn’t yet washed off. 

“It’s Sunday, isn’t?” Rin asks. Yesterday had felt like it lasted so long, he’s not even sure anymore. 

“Yeah.” 

“What’re you doing today?” It comes out before he can think better of it. 

Haru shrugs. “Swimming. Maybe I’ll do homework.” 

“Right.” 

Haru leans forward, arching his back, one shoulder popping as he stretches. He moves into the light from the window, interrupting the shadows, casting a silhouette of himself onto the wall, profile lit up gold. Rin wants to kiss him. Haru’s already kissed him—twice. Pretty much jumped on him. It’s totally legitimate for Rin to kiss him now. Right? _Right_? 

_What are you waiting for, an engraved invitation?_

“Do you want me to leave?” Rin blurts out. 

Haru yawns widely. “You don’t have to,” he says, rolling off the futon and onto his feet. “I’m going to take a bath.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stop being the problem. If only it was the easy. Life would be so simple then, wouldn't it? 
> 
> I've written some (dirty) Nagisa/Rei as a sort of side-story, so I'll probably post that at some point.


	6. Chapter 6

Two weeks into year ten, Rin is pretty sure that there’s a cabinet somewhere in the dorm that produces an unending supply of liquor, because it’s suddenly everywhere. When he points out that the drinking age in Australia is eighteen, he gets several laughs and a couple of pats on the head. He shuts up about it after that. 

Rin’s friends are delighted when they discover his Asian alcohol tolerance, or lack thereof. A beer and a half makes him light-headed and flushed as red as his hair. 

“I thought that was a stereotype,” a girl named Lara says to him. “Like you all being bad drivers.” 

“It’s genetic,” Rin tells her blearily. “The drinking thing, not the bad driving.” 

Lara spins the empty beer bottle and it lands on Stephanie, an American girl who swims the fastest breast stroke Rin’s ever seen. She squeaks and giggles as Lara reaches for her. 

“Make out!” one of the guys calls, and they take it to heart. Stephanie grabs Lara’s ass and makes porno noises while they kiss. 

Rin spins next, even though he’s pretty sure he doesn’t want to kiss any of his teammates. At least, not any of his current ones. The bottle lands on Peter, a big Australian guy who looks more like a rugby player than a swimmer. 

“C’mon, Astro Boy,” says Peter, who’s nicknames for Rin span a wide rang of anime. “You know you want it.” 

Rin flicks him off and leans over the bottle. He realizes, as their lips touch, that this is the first person he has ever kissed. The thought almost makes him stop, but a big hand has cupped the back of his head and he’s too drunk to protest. Peter’s mouth is sour from the beer and he doesn't seem to want his tongue in Rin’s mouth, so it just does a weird little dance against his lips. It’s pretty gross. 

Suddenly, with the vividness of sense-memory, Rin remembers a warm, breezy festival day years ago, when he and Haru had shared a candy apple, how at one point they had both bitten into it at the same time, fingers twisting together on the stick for a single moment. They had laughed, Rin’s stomach going fluttery. 

That had been _way_ more erotic than this. And he had been twelve. 

\--- 

Rin listens to the sound of the water running and thinks about how much better kissing is when you actually care. And about how much caring hurts. 

He used to believe that if he ignored the things that hurt long enough, they would let him go, dissolve into the atmosphere like mist burned away on a hot morning. He wants to be stone. He wants to be able to wipe his face blank like Haru can, become a perfectly reflective sheet of ice. Rin has never been able to hide anything he feels—his heart seeps into his voice and his eyes, betraying him, flipping all his cards face-up before he’s even had a chance to play them. 

The bath stops running, old pipes creaking as they settle. Outside, the maple tree rustles in a sudden gust, shaking hard against the screen like it’s trying to crawl inside. 

_Go_ , Rin tells himself. _While he’s in the bath. You can just go_. 

_Don’t make a fool of yourself_. 

He slams open the bathroom door without knocking. Haru is crouched in the middle of the bath, arms wrapped around his knees. A plastic dolphin bobs in the water next to him. He looks up as Rin comes in, and his gaze cements Rin to the threshold. He has the sudden crazed desire to pretend he has to throw up, or piss really bad. 

Then Haru says, “There isn’t enough room for you.” 

Rin lets out a barking laugh and shuts the door behind him. “I’m not going to get in the bath with you, psycho. I just…just want to talk.” 

He realizes how ridiculous that sounds. Talking could happen through the door, or it could wait until Haru’s done.

Haru leans back against the side of the tub. “So talk.” 

Rin slides down to sit against the wall. The humidity is making him sweat, itching under the collar of his shirt. 

_Fuck it_. He pulls his shirt off and tosses it onto the tiled floor. Haru tips his head back to get his hair wet.

“So, we made out,” Rin says. “Twice.” 

Haru blinks. “Yeah.” Rin could be imagining things, but it sounds like Haru’s voice pitches deeper when he says it. 

“What…what does that mean?”

 _God_ , he is such a girl. A little girl with pigtails and a Lolita costume. He is acting like the other Matsuoka right now. 

_Well, Gou is the one with the boyfriend_ , sneers the voice in his head, the one that’s turning out to be a total dick. _Gou isn’t the one bitching about all of her feelings_. 

He takes a breath of hot, moist air, in through his nose and out through his mouth. 

 

“When I was on the team in our elementary school, there was nobody faster than me. Except you.” 

Haru looks down at his knees and says nothing. 

“You were such an amazing swimmer, and you loved it so much, and you didn’t give a shit about your time or about anything but the water. I thought you were nuts, but still awesome.

“People in Sydney weren’t…weren’t like that.” Rin drags his fingers through his hair, letting his bangs fall back down, strand by strand. “You went to this school because you were going to be an Olympic swimmer, that’s it. All of the guys were taller and stronger than me. Way faster. I was just this tiny Japanese kid with a squeaky voice and a girly name.” He had been a very easy target. 

“The first year sucked. I had, like, zero friends and my English was terrible.” Now that he’s started to talk, the words are crowding his throat, elbowing past one another to get out. “I would…make up all these goals for myself. Tons of them. After awhile they were less like goals and more like rules that I couldn’t let myself break. I had to run a certain distance everyday, I had to improve my time. I had to be better.” He clenches his hands into his jeans. “When I got back here for New Years, I was in awesome shape and really, really exhausted. And mad. I got this idea that if I could beat you, that would mean I was where I needed to be. 

“When we ran into each other by the train tracks, you smiled at me.” The memory of that day makes his stomach tighten in shame, but that particular moment—looking across the tracks and seeing Haru; heat had flashed through him and his heart had rattled along with the few dead leaves still clinging to the trees. “I wanted to smile back. And then I remembered that I was supposed to be angry and jaded and tough. So I just challenged you to a race instead.” 

And they both know what had happened next. They had raced, Rin had lost, and he’d cried. Like a child. 

_I_ was _a fucking child_. 

Rin cannot believe he’s talking this much. He hasn’t talked this much in months. 

“You beat me. We raced and you just…just beat me. Me, who had been training at this fucking prestigious school and beating myself up and watching what I ate—what kind of fucking thirteen year old watches what they eat?” He realizes that he’s getting louder and louder as he talks, and that he sort of can’t stop. “You beat me like it was nothing.” 

Rin wants to look up at Haru, but he knows he can’t. He can’t risk seeing the expression on his face right now. If it’s unconcerned or amused…he couldn’t handle that. 

“I wanted to quit swimming after that.” 

“I remember,” Haru murmurs, almost as if he’s talking to himself. 

“Well, I didn’t.” Rin laughs. God, he sounds miserable. “I guess you figured that. I went back to Australia after New Years.” Lots of things got better. He made some friends, grew a couple inches. “Swimming got easier. I got stronger. I stopped—.” 

_Stopped thinking about you so much_. He had almost said it out loud. 

“When the scholarship ran out, it was okay. I was ready to come back. I was ready to kick your ass.” 

Rin finally makes himself look up. Haru is pushing the plastic dolphin around with a finger, making it bob in the water. “You did.” 

“Huh?” 

“You did kick my ass.” 

“I beat you by about a millisecond,” 

“But you still beat me.” He shrugs. “That’s all that matters, right?” 

“That’s it, right there!” Rin groans, rubbing at his eyes with the heels of his hands. “You lost and you didn’t even care! You felt nothing!” 

Haru’s whole body jerks, splashing water up over the side of the tub. “I didn’t feel _nothing_ ,” he says quietly, and for the first time, Rin thinks he hears a curl of menace in his voice. 

“That isn’t—.” Fuck, this is coming out totally wrong. “That isn’t what I meant.” One single fluffy cloud throws the room into temporary shadow, turning the water in the tub stormy. “I just mean that even if you lose, it’s okay, because you still have it.” 

“Still have what?” 

“The water! Swimming! You swim because it makes you happy, I—.” He’s gulping in oxygen now, breathing like he’s winded. “I don’t even know why I’m doing it anymore.” The words echo through the tiny room, or maybe they’re just echoing through his head, through the vast chasms of interlocking tunnels and joined rooms that he has carved out across his life. “I don’t know if I _like_ to swim. Only that I _have_ to do it. And I’m probably gay, too,” he adds, because why the hell not? He’s already bared his fucking soul like an idiot and a fool. “And I kind of don’t even care anymore.” 

He buries his head in his hands, hears nothing but the breeze and the sound of the water in the bath. Without even realizing it, he has inched himself across the floor while he spoke, so when Haru reaches for him, he doesn’t have to reach very far. His fingers are warm from the water—Rin can feel them through the material of his jeans where they are stretched tight across his knee. 

“I think you think too much,” Haru says softly. 

Rin laughs and it comes out like a sob, shaking his whole body from his shoulders downward. He grabs Haru’s hand and their fingers link, effortlessly, creating the illusion that this is the easiest thing in the world. Water drips from the trailing tendrils of Haru’s hair, finding paths down his neck and across his shoulders, paths Rin wants to follow. They are kneeling on either side of the bath, in the water and out of it. 

It happens much more gradually this time, Rin setting his hand against Haru’s neck, thumb brushing the hollow of his throat, fingers stroking his neck. Haru’s eyes are slits of drowning blue, and he makes a soft sound as Rin kisses him. For a moment Rin is afraid it’s a noise of protest, but then Haru’s fingers return to previously claimed territory in Rin’s hair, holding on tight like he is the last solid thing in a world that is drifting apart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *deep breath* Wow, that was a lot of feelings all at once. 
> 
> The rating will probably be going up next chapter--take from that what you will. And thanks to everyone for all the kudos/comments!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating has gone up. Plan accordingly.

The room brightens again, making the water shine until it looks like Haru is kneeling in a pool of warm light. His skin is slippery beneath Rin’s fingers, and tastes faintly metallic from the bathwater; old pipes, probably. Rin kisses up the wide, thick tendon in his neck to his hairline. Then he coughs, pulling away with a mouthful of soap. 

“Shit!” 

Haru touches his hair. “Shampoo,” he says, before taking a breath and sliding smoothly down into the water. Rin gets up to wash his mouth out in the sink, cupping the water in his hands. He is breathing so fast it makes it hard to drink. 

His reflection stares back at him from the bathroom mirror. He doesn’t look like himself. This guy is pale and heavy-eyed. This guy is scared. 

_Don’t think so much_. 

It’s good advice. Better to think of nothing than to let the bolts and gears that make up the lumbering, clicking machinery of his mind whirr back to life. He squeezes his eyes shut. He feels strange, shaky. Hollowed-out. Turned-on and slightly sick at the same time, like his body can’t decide which one to settle on. Then Haru resurfaces, and okay, yeah. Turned-on is winning. 

He stands up, the water streaming from him as he shakes his hair out of his eyes. Rin has seen more than his share of naked dudes—being an athlete means locker rooms and group showers and the occasional embarrassing boner—but none of them had been Haru. 

They are standing face to face, the bathtub giving Haru an inch or so, making them more or less the same height. Their first point of contact is once again their hands, Haru grabbing Rin’s as he reaches for him, their fingers twisting together. That, and the warm breeze coming through the open window remind Rin of another warm, windy day, years ago, the colors and the lights, lanterns hung in the trees as the sun sets. The taste of candy apple. 

Haru makes a low, broken-off sound as Rin wraps his other hand around his cock. It’s weird—Haru’s is about the same size as Rin’s, but touching Haru is totally different from touching himself. 

_No shit, Honor Student_. 

Instead of the bright, immediate effect of the pleasure in his own body, he has to read the evidence of it in Haru’s face, in his eyes, his open mouth, his flush. His breath is stale morning breath, but Rin doesn’t care. He kisses him anyway. Haru’s hips twitch, trying to push tighter into the circle of Rin’s fist. And then his eyes widen in shock, because he’s slipping, knee banging hard against the side of the bath. 

Rin catches him, one hand under his armpit, the other arm slung around his back. Haru blinks up at him, and his expression is so shocked that Rin breaks into laughter. He can’t really blame him—going from _hand-job_ to _nearly breaking your fucking legs_ in a split second must be disorienting. 

“And this is why I don’t take baths,” Rin says. That, and because it’s been years since he’s lived in a place with a bath available. Haru pushes wet hair out of his eyes, bending down to pull the plug. The water begins to drain with a slow gurgle. 

“Maybe if it was full of cherry blossoms,” he says, “You’d change your mind.” 

“ _What?_ ” That sounds…vaguely familiar. 

“Never mind.” 

They go back to Haru’s room, because the bathroom is fiendishly hot and smells like someone’s grandma's house; probably from Haru’s fruity shampoo. The fan is still charting its calm, creaky course, cooling the sweat on Rin’s skin. He pushes his hands through his hair, holding it up to let the fan cool the back of his neck.

Haru stands naked in the middle of his room, his back to Rin, halfway between the futon and the closet, as if in indecision. The futon would probably mean sex—or as close as two utter amateurs could get—and the closet would mean clothes. Obviously. 

Haru continues to stand there, the moment dragging on into an infinity of awkwardness that Rin can feel like a hand gathering up his insides and squeezing down tight.

“Haru.” 

Haru turns back a little, profile lit up by the morning light. Rin’s stomach shudders with what can’t be anything but blind panic. 

What the _fuck_ is he so nervous about? Haru obviously wants him—see exhibit A: erection, and exhibit B: spending last night pinning Rin to various surfaces—there’s no chance of him being rejected. Rin’s wanted this for so long, but there is a world of difference between wanting something and actually doing it. So many things get in the way—fear, inertia, the unshakable certainty in your own inferiority. 

_Whatever is wrong, I don’t think Haru is the problem_.

“The fuck he’s not,” Rin growls to himself, striding across the room, taking Haru by the shoulder, pulling him around and kissing him, so forcefully that their foreheads knock together, derailing his grand gesture before it even really gets going. 

“Shit,” Rin swears, embarrassed, but Haru grabs him by the shoulders when he tries to move away, pulling him back toward the futon. There is no graceful way to get down on it, so they fall, legs getting tangled up, Haru’s sharp elbow catching Rin in the chest, making him grunt. 

“Ouch!” 

Haru kisses the curve of his jaw. “Sorry.” He lies back, wet hair soaking into the pillow. He looks like a centerfold in a very dirty magazine. The type of magazine Rin has _definitely_ never looked through. 

Rin isn’t exactly sure how to proceed—the kissing is awesome, but beyond that...

He isn’t a complete imbecile—he knows what guys are supposed to do to each other in bed. But he has no idea how to even _begin_ doing that, and the thought of doing it to Haru, or _fuck_ , of Haru doing it to him, Haru _fucking_ him…

It sends a ripple of terror through him, but also a slow, hot jolt deep in his stomach. His cock throbs. 

“What’s wrong?” Haru asks, frowning.

Rin stands up to kick his jeans off. “Nothing,” he says, and then they’re both naked, and Rin is falling back down onto the futon. Haru’s fingers snarl in Rin’s hair and Rin kisses a messy trail across his cheek and to his mouth. They should probably have had a time-out for teeth-brushing or mouthwashing or something, but fuck it—too late now. 

Rin moves down to Haru’s neck. He smells good, like clean, warm skin, and a more concentrated version of how his sheets smell. Haru lets out a breathy laugh, and Rin feels himself flush, because he’s just here, bending over Haru awkwardly, _sniffing_ him. 

“Shut it,” he says, and bites down softly on Haru’s neck. 

Haru gasps. “Rin.” Rin isn’t sure if it’s a good gasp or a bad gasp, but then Haru’s hand comes up to hold his head in place, so he takes that as encouragement and bites harder. 

Haru’s whole body goes rigid and he grabs at Rin’s back, before melting back onto the futon. 

“You like that?” Rin gasps out, and then, because that sounds sort of like a cheesy porno line, adds, “Biting?” 

He looks up to watch the color spread across the bridge of Haru’s nose, for him to look away and set his jaw. “So?” 

“And you like pulling my hair. I guess that makes you kind of kinky, Nanase.” He doesn’t even mention the blatant sexual attraction to water or addiction to salty fish.

“It’s not my fault it’s so long,” Haru says, and it takes Rin a moment to realize that he’s talking about his hair. He bites down hard enough on the curve of Haru’s shoulder that it’ll probably leave a mark. What is everyone going to think when Haru shows up at school on Monday with hickies all over his neck? 

Rin trails his fingers down Haru’s ribs, grinning as sharp breaths become a huffing laugh. 

“C-Cut it out.” 

He moves across to the tight muscles of Haru’s abdomen, so light he’s barely touching him. Haru laughs again, but then he’s glaring at Rin, batting his fingers aside like an irritated cat. That image makes Rin grin even wider, and he sits back, pushing his hair out of his eyes. What now? 

_You know what now, dumbass_. 

The talking is supposed to be the hard part. The sex is supposed to be easy, isn’t it? 

“Do you…” Rin hesitates, biting into his bottom lip. “Do you want me togodownonyou?” He says it so quickly the last few words slur together. 

_Smooth_. 

Haru’s eyes have this weird thing they do where they flash—the color in them literally changing as his pupils dilate—and shine like an anime character’s. Typically when he’s looking at a body of water big enough to fit himself into. 

They do that now, while he’s looking at Rin. 

“I was…going to ask you the same thing,” he says. 

“Whether I wanted to go down on you, or wanted you to do it to me?” 

Haru flushes the slightest bit. “The second one.” 

Rin is hot all over, and he’s so hard it’s starting to hurt. He moves back over Haru, creeping closer on his hands and knees. His voice trembles when he asks, “Who’s gonna go first?” 

“Me,” Haru says after a moment. 

“So…” Rin’s brain is spiraling out in ever-widening circles—soon he’s only going to be able to make unconnected sounds. “Are you sucking my cock, or am I sucking yours?” 

Haru nods. 

“That isn’t a fucking answer!” Rin’s voice hitches upward toward the end. 

In response, Haru twists his fingers in his hair, pushing his head down. Reflexively, Rin resists, which makes Haru push harder. Rin’s face and neck flush, because that is stupidly hot. And that is sort of weird too, isn’t it? That it turns Rin on when Haru pushes him around? 

Regardless, he lets himself be pushed. Up close, and faced with the knowledge that he’s going to be putting it in his mouth, Haru’s cock looks a lot bigger than it had a couple of minutes ago. 

“Don’t expect…” Rin swallows, throat gone very dry. “I don’t have a lot of experience with this.” 

Haru starts to respond, but Rin’s already licking the head of his cock, pulling it into his mouth, and the words never materialize. Haru’s legs twitch, the muscles jumping in his thighs. His fingers curl in midair beside Rin’s head, like he’s trying not to grab onto his hair, and Rin wishes he hadn’t made fun of him before, because he wants him to do it—wants him to pull his hair while Rin is—when he’s… _fuck_ , while Rin’s sucking Haru’s cock. That’s what he’s doing right now. And it shouldn’t be making him as hot as it is. 

He puts his hands on Haru’s hips to hold him still as he licks a wet path up the shaft, before pushing forward and taking as much into his mouth as he can. 

Haru grabs Rin’s hair and fucking _yanks_. He says Rin’s name, followed by a curse, then another curse. Then he says Rin’s name again, except this time it’s hoarse and ragged, like it’s being pulled from somewhere deep and dark inside him. That, and the feeling of him twitching beneath his hands fills Rin with a bewildered, drunken elation, at least until he feels the cock in his mouth hit the back of his throat and he chokes. 

He pulls back up, coughing into the crook of his elbow, wiping wet lips. “Shit.” This looks a lot easier in porn. 

Haru is looking at him, eyes wide and shocked, like he can’t get himself to believe what he’s seeing “Are you okay?” 

“Fine.” Rin wraps a hand around Haru’s cock, stroking him instead, to give his jaw a rest, and also because he’s just remembered. “I said something about wanting to swim in a pool full of cherry blossoms, didn’t I?” 

Haru gives him a look that very clearly says, _are you seriously asking me about cherry blossoms when you’re supposed to be giving me head?_ It’s possible Rin is projecting a little. 

Haru closes his eyes and drops back against the mattress. “Yeah, you did.” 

Rin grunts. This time, he doesn’t get quite so ambitious, just sucking on the head. Haru doesn’t really seem to mind that he can’t fit very much in his mouth; he’s letting out low, gasping breaths, fingers moving in his hair, and just when Rin thinks he’s finally getting the hang of this, Haru lets out a low, broken gasp. He comes, and it’s salty and weird-tasting, and Rin doesn’t really want to swallow it, but he’s not about to spit it out onto Haru’s floor, so he does anyway. 

“Fuck,” he says, wiping his mouth. “That tastes terrible. You’ve gotta lay off the mackerel.” 

Haru’s gasps become a rough, stifled laugh, and then he’s grabbing Rin and kissing him so hard that it makes him dizzy. Or the lack of oxygen does, or the head rush from sitting up so fast. Dizzy from kissing does sound a whole lot sexier, though. 

Haru does him after that, licking a long, slow line down his stomach and over his hips, down until Rin is pushing into soft, wet heat, twisting his fingers into the sheets and biting his lip again to stop himself from saying some really stupid things. He does make a few embarrassing noises, although he’s slightly gratified by the fact that Haru experiences gag-reflex related problems as well. 

He lasts longer than Haru did, too, but when he comes he’s shaking all over, hips twisting on the futon as he says something to the effect of, “Fuck, yes, Haru, fuck, god _dammit_ \--!” 

Afterward they lie in Haru’s bed, in a band of sunlight, facing each other but not touching. The sheets are sort of damp and the day is turning muggy, and Rin needs a shower more than ever. Haru probably needs another bath. 

Rin’s stomach makes a desperate gurgle. “Please tell me you have something other than mackerel.” 

Haru’s eyes are shut, lashes a feathery arch against his cheeks, and his breathing is even and steady. For second Rin thinks he’s fallen asleep, but then he says, “Toast.” He doesn’t open his eyes, but his lips curl up into a tired little almost-smile. 

Rin snorts and rolls onto his back. Despite the desire for breakfast, he thinks he could go back to sleep and sleep for days. Weeks. Eons. His body feels impossibly good and his brain is quiet for once. 

He must have fallen asleep, at least for a little while, because the next time he opens his eyes the light has moved further down the bed and Haru is kissing him again. His cheek and then his jaw and then finally his lips. Rin wraps his arms around him to feel the warm skin of his back and returns the kiss. 

“It’s noon,” Haru says. 

Rin blinks his eyes open all the way. “So?” 

“I’m going to the pool.” He’s got his swimsuit on. 

“Oh.” 

“Are you coming?” 

Rin squints at Haru. Something inside him still feels strange, hollowed out, empty in a place that is used to being full. It takes a moment for him to realize that it’s due to the absence of the sharp, persistent ache that usually materializes when he sees Haru, equal parts jealousy and regret, anger and frustrated longing. 

Rin pushes the sheets off himself. “Gimme a second.” The ache will probably come back—some wounds are too deep to be solved by a couple of blow jobs. Alright, most wounds, actually. But for now a warmth is growing inside his chest, threatening to push its way through every part of him. “Just let me grab my suit.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter, folks. An epilogue of sorts. Thanks for all the great comments on the last chapter--I'm glad it hit some of the right cords.


	8. Epilogue

Haru stretches his arms up above his head, reaching for the sun. He dives, body forming a perfect arch, barely making a splash as he cuts smoothly into the water. Rin watches as he undulates like an eel, body shaded blue, making it three-quarters of the way across the pool before he comes up for air. Nagisa’s right—he does look like a dolphin. 

Rin is wearing one of Haru’s spare swimsuits (it looks identical to the one Haru has on right now, although he insists they’re all different) and it’s a little tight on him. That hadn’t seemed like such a big deal back at the house, but now it’s becoming decidedly uncomfortable. Watching Haru is making him hard, as if now that his body knows that, theoretically, he could get in the pool, crowd Haru up against the wall, and grind against him until they both come, it’s harder to keep his shit together. 

His face heats and his hands itch. Thoughts like that don’t help much either. 

He sits on the edge of the pool, one foot in the water, the sun beating down on his back. 

What happens now? 

_What the fuck do you think happens now? Haru goes home, you go home, and tomorrow you’ll be opponents again._

_It’s not like he’s your boyfriend, or anything_. 

Or is he? What exactly is the criteria for something like that? And if he’s not, if it’s just a casual thing, can it even be considered a one-night-stand if you just sucked each other off? And it wasn’t even night when it happened? 

Now that he’s let it out, told Haru…fuck, told him _everything_ , the idea of shoving it all back inside sounds unbelievably painful, not to mention impossible—like trying to repack a suitcase with as twice as many things as you had to start with.

Haru resurfaces, shaking his bangs out of his eyes. “Are you getting in?” His lips twitch, and Rin realizes Haru’s at the exact right level for front-row-seats to his hard-on. 

He slides down off the side of the pool. The water is cooler than in Samezuka’s pool (which is kept at a uniform temperature all year round) but it feels amazing against his overheated skin. And that’s not something he thinks about very often—what the water feels like. He’s always too concerned with beating his time and making sure he gets in his required number of laps for the afternoon. 

He wishes, distantly, that he could feel the water the way Haru does—like an embrace, a haven. Like home. 

What if the rest of the Iwatobi swim club finds out about this? _Fuck_ , what if the Samezuka swim club finds out about this? That would be the real fucking worst, that would be—

Haru propels himself through the water with a tiny motion of his hips and legs, coming up against Rin and kissing him in broad daylight. His skin is cool and slick. 

“Don’t worry so much.” 

Rin’s got a hundred snappy retorts building in the back of his throat (which is still sort of sore) but he’s still too shaky and weird-feeling to bother with them, so he just lets himself sag against Haru. “Fine.” 

He imagines what this would look like to a janitor, or an overachiever in to work on a project on a Sunday—Haru holding him, kissing his neck—and realizes he kind of doesn’t give a shit. There are so many things to worry about—an infinity of cares and potential disasters. Sick mothers and storms that sink fishing boats, angry little boys who can’t make themselves everything they want to be, no matter how hard they try. 

“Hey, wait a second.” Rin raises his head. “This is a pool. You have a pool.” 

“Yes,” Haru says slowly, like he’s trying to figure out if Rin has gone insane. 

“What were you doing in Samezuka’s pool last night? You can swim here.” It might have been sort of chilly after the sun went down, but that’s never stopped Haru before. 

Haru lets go of Rin, which makes Rin wish he’d just kept his fucking mouth shut. “Samezuka’s pool is bigger,” Haru says, looking down at the surface of the water. 

“Right.” But before the empty hole of embarrassed disappointment inside of Rin has the chance to open further than a crack, Haru looks back up, eyes shining with reflected light. 

“And because I wanted to swim with you,” he says quietly. 

“I…want to swim with you too,” Rin responds. _Among other things_. 

Haru nods, and smiles. And then, because standing around is not swimming, he pushes himself away from the wall, striking out for the center of the pool. 

Rin stays still for a moment, watching as Haru gets further away. Then he rotates his shoulders, feeling the skin pull tight where the sun has been baking his back. He sinks down below the surface, pushing off, letting the water pull him to where Haru is waiting in a sea of deep, cool blue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end! Whew! 
> 
> Thanks to everyone who stayed with this story to the end or left comments/kudos. I haven't had so much fun with a fanfiction project in a long, long time. 
> 
> I'll probably write a couple of side-stories, since these two continue to devour my heart. I also planning on posting some filthy Nagisa/Rei, so stay tuned for that.


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